Eighteen - Kieran
“Lyric,” I say softly, running a hand through her hair again. “Where is your mommy? And what’s wrong with her?”
Lyric sniffles, finally lifting her head from Rad’s neck. Her big, mismatched eyes look directly into mine, and she sniffles again, silently pointing down the hall with a hiccup.
“She’s dead in the bathroom,” she says through a quivering lip and clings tighter to Rad for protection.
“You watch the kid, and I’ll go see what’s wrong,” I say with apprehension, taking a step toward the hallway. “We’ll make sure your mommy is okay. Okay?” I swallow hard when she meets my eyes again, and I swear it’s like looking in the mirror. A million questions run through my mind when she nods in agreement, still clinging tight to Rad, who soothes a hand down her back and murmurs soft words in her ear. Protectively he stands taller, watching as I exit.
I have a kid , is the only thought that runs through my mind as I make my way down the silent hallway. I perk my ears up, listening for any sound, but nothing comes to me. On quiet steps, I continue down the never-ending hallway and stop at the end as light catches my attention, leading me to a gigantic main bedroom.
A fully made king-sized bed sits in the expansive room, with a glittery purse thrown on the comforter. Everything around me is in pristine condition. No dust. Not even a scrap of clothing on the ground. I walk further into the room and turn to my left, where the light shines on the semi-closed door. I hold my breath as I slowly push the door open, and my heart speeds out of control. When Lyric said her mom was dead, I didn’t expect to actually find an unmoved body.
“Shit,” I grunt, marching into the bathroom with determination. “River?” Gently I move my fingers through her hair, guiding it off her pale-looking face. Gently I press my fingers into the side of her neck, noting that she still has a heartbeat. Thank fuck. The stench of stomach acid and vomit fills the room. My stomach turns at the putrid smell. God, it reeks like fucking death walked into this bathroom and grabbed River before running away.
River’s upper body clings to the porcelain God as she sleeps, pressing her cheek on the open toilet seat. How uncomfortable. But it was probably the only way to simultaneously get some rest and vomit. I cringe at the thought, crouching in front of her and running my finger over her heat-filled cheek.
“River?” I ask again, trying not to shake her.
“Fuck off,” she mutters but doesn’t move to make me fuck off. In fact, she doesn’t move a muscle at all.
I smirk, almost chuckling to myself as the memories once again assault my mind. It’s so like River to act like this even when I’m trying to help in such a dire situation.
“Sorry, River Blue, but I can’t fuck off. A child was knocking at my door this morning. And I think you and I have some things to discuss.” Emotions creep into my voice, taking them hostage and effectively choking me up. Tears burn behind my eyes as new feelings spill through me in her presence. Sure, I’m still pissed the fuck off at her. She cheated on us like we were nothing. But this? This is a child, and I’m sensible enough to realize there’s more to this story than just black and white. There’s a gray area that needs to be discussed.
River’s eyes pop wide and frantic, refocusing on me as I crouch beside her. Her brows furrow with confusion as she takes me and the bathroom in. At that moment, I hear the distinct gurgle of her stomach as panic swallows her, and she heaves over the toilet.
“Oh God,” she groans as she spills the contents of her stomach into the toilet. “It won’t stop,” she heaves again, spitting more chunks into the water.
My goddamn stomach turns at her noises, desperate to empty, too. But I hold it back, turning my head to give her some privacy. Like a gentleman, I grip back her hair despite the growing, conflicting feelings rising inside me. Just an hour ago, I beat the shit out of my hanging bag to her memory. Now here I am, holding back her hair as she’s helplessly getting sick.
“I think I have food poisoning,” she grumbles, squeezing her eyes shut. “Stupid sushi. Never again.” A shiver runs down her spine, eliciting goosebumps when she sets back, heaving a few breaths. Blindly, she feels for the toilet paper, tears off a piece, and wipes her mouth.
“Well, whatever it is, you’re definitely sick. And apparently, dying,” I grunt, loosening my fingers from her hair as she settles her cheek against the rim of the toilet again. Exhaustion pulls at her features, and she huffs at me.
“Dying?” she grumbles, licking her chapped lips. “Why would I be dying?” she asks softly, flinching away from my touch when I remove some fallen hair strands from her face.
She watches me with suspicion when I plant my ass beside her. My eyes wander across her familiar yet grown-up features. She’s still the same girl I knew back in Central City, yet not.
“Is she mine?” My tongue dries out as I wait on pins and needles for her answer. Even though, in my heart, I already know the damn truth.
The realization of having a kid and not knowing she existed breaks me in half. I promised myself a long time ago that if I ever had a child, I would never do to my child what my father did to me. He took off and never looked back. He made something of himself. He may not have been famous, but he took off for greener pastures and left my mother and me all alone. What kind of man does that? How can a man do that?
“Can we talk about this later when I’m not on my deathbed?” River rasps, squeezing her eyes shut with a pained expression crossing her features.
Although it’s the last thing I want to do right now, I give River the reprieve she needs. “Yeah, but we will talk about this. And the fact that Rad knew…”
“Yeah,” she says, heaving a breath and blowing it out between her lips.
Nervously, I rub my neck. “Do you need any water? I need to fill Rad in on what’s happening.”
River peeks an eye open, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Um, sure. I don’t think I’ve moved for at least six hours. Thanks,” she says with reluctance, watching my every move like I might poison her water.
“Okay, no problem. I’ll get you some water, and… I’ll be right back, stay here,” I grunt, stumbling my way to my feet, nearly falling over. A tight smile crosses my lips when I give her a little wave before exiting the bathroom.
The awkwardness of the situation presses down on me and doesn’t leave until I walk out of the bathroom and down the hall. Running a hand through my hair, I halt in the living room doorway. My brows pull together at the sight of Asher, Callum, and Rad surrounding Lyric and cooing soft words into her ear. There’s a familiarity between them that pulls at my damn heartstrings, tugging me in so many damn directions. She’s mine. Yet, I don’t have that connection with her.
“Is she okay?” Rad asks, jumping to his feet with concern etched onto his face.
My eyes stare from him and Lyric to the rest of the guys sitting there, staring up at me with wide eyes. “Um, yeah, I think she has food poisoning. She’s stuck on the toilet and doesn’t look very good,” I say, scratching at the back of my neck. “But she’s definitely not dying,” I say confidently, locking eyes with Lyric, who sags with relief in Callum’s lap.
“My mommy is going to be okay?” she asks with a quivering lip—more moisture pools in her eyes, threatening to cascade down her cheeks again.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat, not sounding as reassuring as I wanted. “She’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah, Little Pretty Girl. We’ll make sure that your mommy is all better. Sounds like she’s just got the flu,” Rad says, narrowing his eyes at me. What the hell did I do? Shit. I’m trying to make a difference.
Without another word, I walk into the kitchen and search through the cupboards for a glass with Ash on my ass.
“You good?” Asher asks with reluctance, rubbing his fingers over his stubbly jaw.
I grunt, grab a glass from the last cupboard, and slam it down onto the counter. “Define good,” I hiss through gritted teeth, filling up the glass. “How long?” Asher’s eyes fall to the ground, and he shakes his head.
“I only found out about a week ago.” He doesn’t elaborate more, but it pisses me off. Rage boils through my veins, and my fists clench at my sides.
“And you didn’t fucking tell me?” Stalking up to him, I grab him by the shirt and pull his face into mine, letting him see all the emotions bursting through the surface. “I have a fucking kid, Asher. And you didn’t think to tell me that you met her and that she existed?”
“You said you knew,” Asher says, aggressively growling in my face, pushing his forehead into mine. “I asked you if you knew River had a kid. And you said you fucking knew. How long, Kieran? How fucking long did you know?” he grunts back, pressing his face harder into mine.
I blink several times, going over our conversation in the limo. Yeah, I did know she had a kid. Gloria told me that she did, and she also fucking lied through the damn phone.
I grunt, pushing Asher away from me, and pace around the kitchen with my hands clenching at my sides. “Gloria called me. We had just moved into our first apartment together. She told me that River had come to her and told her that she was pregnant with Van’s baby.” I stare at Asher as the news computes in his mind, and he shakes his head.
“So, you had nothing to do with the restraining orders either?” Rad asks, strolling into the kitchen and giving me the death glare.
I recoil as if I was slapped, and my lips popped open. “Restraining orders? What the hell are you talking about?”
“No, I think that was all Gloria’s doing,” Asher surmises, darting his eyes around the room and avoiding our curious stares.
Confusion swirls around me as I fall back into the countertop. “Somebody better fucking explain what is going on. Before I lose my shit.”
“I think that’s a better conversation between you and River,” Callum mutters, shuffling into the kitchen and shaking his head.
My eyes drop to Lyric clinging to his hand as her wide eyes take every inch of me in, sizing me up. I swallow the hard lump forming in my throat. She’s a fucking mini version of River mixed with my features, too.
In my heart, I know there’s no denying who she belongs to. You take one look at her and you know without a doubt, without getting a DNA test, that she belongs to me. And because we walked away, we never got the chance to know her. I never got the chance to watch her walk or talk or crawl. Fuck.
“I’m going to take care of River,” I say softly, peering into Lyric’s eyes. “I’m going to take care of your mommy until she feels better, okay? And then maybe we can hang out?” I question, raising a brow when she slowly nods in agreement.
My heart seizes in my chest when she pulls away from Callum and slams into me, hugging my thigh. Her strong little grip clings on as she takes several deep breaths and finally peers up at me.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she says in a raspy, overused voice.
“You’re welcome,” I say, as a burning heat rises behind my eyes. My fingers trail through her long dark locks, trying to soothe the worry.
“Yeah, Little Pretty Girl. Why don’t we get you dressed and have a fun daddy’s day,” he says with uncertainty, looking down at her like she’s the fucking sun in his sky.
Looking around the room, I examine all their varying expressions. From the looks of it, they’ve all known for a period of time and haven’t said a word to me.
An off-feeling of understanding presses down on me. I fucking get why they didn’t talk to me about it, but it still fucking sucks. I was so bitter in the limo when Asher asked.
It fucking hurt so goddamn bad that she would go behind our backs not only sleep with Van but have his baby, too.
Gloria picked on me when my nerves were raw as hell and dropped the news on me at my lowest. Her mothering skills were weak at best, and I don’t know why the hell I took her word for it back then.
Rad scoops Lyric into his arms, navigating toward her room like he’s tucked her in a million times before. Within ten minutes, Lyric is dressed in a mismatched outfit and a worried expression lining her face.
“My mommy will be okay, right?” she asks in a quiet voice when I crouch in front of her. The back of my fingers brush against her plump cheeks, and I nod.
“Don’t worry, Little Blue. I won’t let anything happen to your mommy today.” And that’s a fucking promise. River has to feel better so the five of us can sit down and have a lengthy discussion.
As if my words erase the worry sitting on her shoulders, she gives me a toothy grin. She’s melting my fucking heart without doing anything at all. The need to not only protect her but heal her wounds has my fatherly instincts on overdrive. Without another word being said, she wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes me while kissing my cheek.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
Those words. They stay in my mind long after they take Lyric across the street and do God knows what with her. Our house isn’t exactly childproof.
I silently chastise myself. Grabbing the forgotten glass of water, I silently walk back into the bathroom where I had left River minutes before. River has barely moved from her spot. Except now she leans against the wall with her eyes squeezed shut and her knees at her chest, sucking in air.
“Sorry,” I mutter gently, sitting beside her and handing her the glass of water. “I met Lyric. Don’t worry about her, though. The guys took her across the street.” Her breaths shutter in her chest as she gives a slow nod. Taking the glass of water, she gulps down a few mouthfuls and takes a deep breath.
“Let me guess; you didn’t know either.” She doesn’t bother opening her eyes, instead squeezing them tighter. She grimaces, rubbing a hand across her stomach.
“If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have stayed away. Even if I fucking despised you for what you did… I would never stay away from my baby.” My sentence starts out strong but dissipates by the end, coming out as a breathy whisper.
River doesn’t react like I thought she would. I expected a scoff or some form of disagreement, but she simply lays her head against the wall.
“Yeah, I’m getting the distinct hint that nothing I believed is real,” she grumbles, finishing off the water in three long swallows.
“Gloria told me that you had a baby. But she said it wasn’t mine or the guys; she told me it was Van’s.”
Running a hand down my face, I relive all the situations that long ago I shoved into a little black box of forgotten memories. From the moment we left Central City to the day we got to East Point. It all comes back like a tornado, wreaking havoc on my emotions.
“And you believed her,” she says defiantly, with anger rising in tinging her voice. If this conversation keeps progressing, we are going to have an all-out brawl of words we can’t take back.
“Not now. Let’s do this when you’re feeling better; then you can bust my lip. Right now, you’re sick as shit. And you need to rest before we can hash this shit out.” As much as I want to continue the conversation and get to the bottom of what the hell happened, I know my words are true. I want her to get better, and I want to figure this out.
“Fine,” she says through a breath. “I’m going to bed. You can go home,” she says, trying to get to her feet. River stumbles around a little bit before catching herself against my body. Fuck. The feel of her pressing against me messes with my damn head. Fire brews beneath my skin. Her touch is so right. Yet so wrong at the same time.
“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. You’ve been here for six-plus hours. You need help. And that’s what I’m going to do. Once you’re better, we are all going to sit down and have a nice long conversation.” The familiar glare I grew to love years ago stares back at me in defiance.
“You really don’t have to stay. I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. I didn’t ask you to come over here…”
“This isn’t a discussion, River Blue.” She scowls at me even more, angrily snarling at the nickname I refuse to let go of. “This is me doing what I said I’m going to do. You are going to bed, and I’m going to get you more water. Then when you’re feeling a little better, I’ll get you some crackers. I’m not leaving until you feel better.”
River doesn’t say anything else, leading me back to her bedroom. Plopping onto her mattress, her fingers run the length of her forehead, and she groans, refusing to meet my eye.
Today is the day everything changes for us.